


I Don't Want To Let Go

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, F/M, Mental Instability, Non-Binary Chara, Other, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He edges closer. Still trembling.<br/>"W-What...who are you?"<br/>You give a short rasp of laughter.<br/>"If only I knew"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Along For The Climb

Harder. Faster.  
Your feet move in a continuos blur as you pedal along the deserted street, the only one that runs through the entire village.  
You need to get out.  
You can still feel the throbbing pain of the hit, where his fist met your eye and in turned gifted it a flowering bruise that threatend to creep down your neck. You can still feel his disgusting hands, scrabbling over your body, desperate to cling on. It's a fucking joke, as is the rest of humanity.

You stop and rest your bike against the bitumen as you reach the general store. You could have gone anywhere, but really this was the only place which had more than a wide variety of baseball caps with your village name scrawled across the back. You lived in a shit place, with shit shops and even shittier people.

As you walk in, the cashier raises a lazy eyebrow at you, then continues reading his magazine. You feel inclined to flip him off, but you think the better of it. Just because you're the only business he really sees these days, doesn't mean he has to go all friendly on you. You're here for one reason alone.

A weapon.

Browsing through the dusty shelves, you see a variety of expired potato chips, used gum and the occasional melted ice-cream. Wandering back further, you see the fishing rods, bait, cracked plastic buckets. A row of carefully sharpened knives. Exactly what you needed.  
You finger the handles carefully, breathless. There's a disturbing beauty to the knives. Something so simple, with the power to hurt, to slice, to cut  
To kill.  
Eventually you find the right one. The oldest of the set, with a battered gold handle. With the sharpest, oldest blade, and the most expensive too. Still, money was meant to be spent.

You hand over the wad of bills to the cashier who snatches them with his greasy hands, in turn shoving the blade into your fist. You stuff the blade in your pocket, and walk outside to where your bike lies on the ground.

The sunset outside is so beautiful, you want to take it away. Because if you can't appreciate the beauty of the sky, nobody can. You feel nothing as you cycle home, only a fear that makes you feel sick. 

You are fucking late.

He's going to be real happy with you, isn't he? You're an idiot. A worthless piece of trash that should have been thrown away long ago. If somebody had actually loved you, they'd have told you by now. No wonder everyone hates you. Because when you look at yourself, you see a natural disaster. You can't exist without hurting others around you. You should just disappear , rip all the delicate threads that let you wake to see one more day.

Sometimes, you want to die. The desire burns in you, screaming, begging, cajoling you to follow it. To just listen. It's a scary thing, the pain. Like wearing a mask, and when you take it off you realise you are a monster underneath it. You don't want that. You don't want anybody to see that monster. Because if someone does, you know you'll lose control and then there will be only one person alive in the room.

You are a monster, like the rest of humanity. A monster like him. 

Sometimes, you think of him. Him when he never used to drink. Him when he was dad.  
If feels weird calling him that. Weird and painful, and not right. Sometimes you imagine him dead. Like a broken toy, fluttering in the breeze. Unwanted. Unloved. It gives you a strange thrill, a fluttery feeling that's so strange, it's welcome.  
Feeling anything is welcome these days, actually.

Your eyes are stinging by the time you edge in to the doorway. Thankfully, he's knocked out on the couch, beer bottle clutched in one hand, snoring. This isn't the end for you today.

You return to the loft, where there is a dirty sleeping bag, meant to be your bed.Without even bothering to change, you slip your knife under the pillow and climb right in.  
For once, you feel a burning, from deep within your soul. It fills you with a quiet hatred. Hatred that gives you peace. 

DETERMINATION

You awake to a fist punching you in the ribs.

He's awake, and he took the knife.

The pain hits you hard.

He throws you across the room.

You land with a sickening thud.

Fireworks of pain explode in your head.

He's yelling now, telling you what a piece of shit you are.

Hitting you,

Again

and 

Again.

oh god the pain

Make it stop

It only stops when you pass out.

You have a plan.

When he goes to the bathroom, you strip free of your clothes. Try to not pay attention to the bruises, as you stare in the small mirror hung up on the wall. Instead, you focus on the things you like. The short, choppy bob it took you ages to cut secretly. Your long fingers, good for cutting and breaking off bits of chocolate. Pale skin, from staying in the loft for fear of getting hurt again. Your red eyes, that mark you as different. You prefer the word unique. You put on the only pair of shorts you own and a dirty tank top. Nothing can stop you now. You even managed to rescue your knife from the kitchen.

You've seen everything this filthy world has to offer. You're not phased by the idea of death.

You decide to walk this time, and you know exactly where to. You walk briskly in the cold, heading for a smudge on the horizon.

Mount Ebott.

When you arrive, it's every bit as cold as you expected. In fact, there's pain as you hike up slowly, the type that drills into your skull. You manage to ignore it. You stay determined, like you always have and always will. When you reach the peak, your face is numb and your fingers blue. 

It is time.

Close your eyes.

Deep breath in, out.

Step slowly, carefully to the edge.

Jump.

The wind whistles around you as you hurtle to death. It's so peaceful, beautiful. You won't suffer pain any longer. Very soon for you, it will be the end.

The last thing you remeber are the stars, pin pricks of light guiding you home.


	2. Fallen Down

The world looks decidedly more beautiful upside down. Clouds swirl, the stars surround you, the moon dips into the sky.  
Until of course, you land.

Landing is a painful ordeal, your leg slams hard against your hip and sends agony shooting up the left side of your body. Then, a brief crunch ensues and the pain is so bad you can't stop a few tears spilling from your eyes. Your head is pounding from the fall and there is a sticky mess of blood down your tank top.

In short, you look like hell.

After cursing under your breath, you manage to drag yourself on to your stomach. From here you examine your landing place. There are two cracked marble pillars next to you, and underneath you is a springy mass of golden flowers. You've never been here before, so you try to call for help. You raise your strangled voice louder and yell.

But nobody comes.

So you lie there, eyes squeezed tight, the tears now falling without shame. You wish you just died, and maybe then you wouldn't feel this pain. Of course you're proven wrong, when you hear a voice. 

"I think it came from here..." There is a small goat looking child standing next to you. He's wearing a green sweater with yellow stripes and jeans. He looks, surprisingly innocent but HOLY SHIT THERE IS A GOAT BOY 

Your eyes widen and you scramble back, immediately regretting it because you're a fucking idiot, and pain shoots up your hip again. Goat boy smiles slightly. 

"Oh! It looks like you're hurt. Hold still..." Then, within the next few seconds he places his paws on your leg and shoots rainbow streaks into it, immediately easing the pain. The thought makes you smile because you've never heard of people using rainbow streaks of light to heal broken legs. Then, you realise that this guy is probably trying to kill you and help and jerk back. It also takes you a second to register that goats should probably not be talking and you are probably in heaven or hell, or wherever the heck you'd end up. 

"What's your name?" he asks gently. Almost kindly. Almost. Damn, what the hell are you going to say? You don't even know who you are anymore. So you think back, think back to when you actually liked school, think back to when your Irish language teacher told you the meaning for the word Chara in first grade. 

Friend. It meant friend. You decided you liked this name, because all your life you had wanted a friend,and now it was your chance to be one. But you shouldn't trust this guy. Remember what happened when you trusted dad? 

But because you were so desperate for attention, you replied "Chara. It's Chara"  
He nodded eagerly. "That's a lovely name. My name is..."

That's all you remember before the white light blinded you.

Asriel.  
As ri el Dree mu rr  
A fitting name. A suitable one for someone so bright, so full of life. The name was warm and happy, and it filled you with something you hadn't felt in a long time. Your soul felt whole for once, like the cracks finally joined for the shortest amount. Of time. You hate these feelings, because you know that's what makes people weak. Connections like this, people like this. You've been trying to strip all of these feelings from your bones. You've tried so hard.

That's all you think when a lady, a goat one just like Asriel, picks you up gently, hold you close. She lays you down and heals you, talking to you all this time. You hear Asriel tell her everything. 

Then a second thought.

Please stop being nice to me. If you knew what type of person I was, you would have left me long ago.  
BUT THIS WAS A DIFFERENT STORY.

AND THERE ARE NO HAPPY ENDINGS


End file.
